There's nothing like the feeling of eating a nice peanut butter and jelly sandwich after a night of decadence. Yeah, it's 2 am, I just got back from Halloween goings on, and have decided writing is more important than going to bed for work tomorrow. I think that may have something to do with the No-Doz not wearing off yet.

     Oh well, I probably should get on to that story of the night of decadence. It all started innocently, by comparison, with wanting to go to a Halloween party of some sort. I found what I was looking for, put on by the folks at Nocturnia, who put on the goth/industrial night on Thursdays at "The Cage" night club, which I've been to a couple times. I am comfy with the club and the area, so it sounded all good. I had a costume idea, the evil jester, and this was the perfect setting for it. I had to resort to makeup, as I couldn't find a suitable skull mask. So, I took all the stuff I needed with me to work that morning, to avoid having to come home and then head into DC. So, worked late, went out for dinner, and since I'd forgotten to bring my Penguin Mints with me to work, I stopped to grab some No-Doz at the local pharamacy. I'm still debating if that was a good idea or not. At any rate, I headed back into work, and used the bathroom to put makeup on. I'm no stranger to makeup, although it has been a while since I was that 6 year old parade marching clown, but I am a stranger to putting it on myself. So, it was a bit messy and took a while, but I think I did a decent job for my first time. It's not quite what I wanted, but it took alot of touch ups to make sure my face had more of a sinister look, and not the "I got rejected as a Batman villain" look. And well, from there had to make sure I didn't look like some idiot trying to go as a member of the Insane Clown Posse. I found the makeup can really transform a person, though. All day at work, I was wearing black boots, black cargo pants, a black button up shirt, a dark blue Rennaissance Faire amulet, a chain bracelet, a silvery pinky ring and a black spider ring. Other thant the fact that I was a bit noisy with all the polyester on, nobody noticed. With the addition of some makeup, I got a really funny look from the security guard on the way out. Funny how that works. . .

     Well, headed in to DC, and managed to get there alot earlier than I expected. It was 8:30, and the doors to the club weren't supposed to open until 9. When I've gone before, there were usually people there early, waiting at the main doors. Well, that was the case this time, also, but they were all Hispanic people, standing under a big radio station banner. That pretty much gave me the idea that something happened, and the industrial Halloween wasn't happening. I wandered the block a bit, hoping to see more freaky people, but nothing, just guys yelling things at me in Spanish. As I strayed from the club a bit, there were several African American families trick or treating with children. That was normal, and made me feel a little safer in the otherwise not terribly safe neighborhood. Well, I didn't think the makeup job was wonderful, but apparently that wasn't the consensus. Alot of people, who must not have realized my race, as I tend to get funny looks for being a lone white guy around there most of the time, were complimenting me on my costume. And the kids, well, some thought it was really cool, but I managed to scare a few of them. Part of me is proud of that, and well, I still feel bad for it.

     Walking by the club fairly close to 9 still didn't show any change, so I figured I wouldn't waste my parking lot fees, and strolled a couple blocks over to the 9:30 club. Gwar (yes THAT Gwar, they are still around) was playing, and I figured at least the crowd would be interesting to look at. Wrong, they were all in their late 20's and wearing jeans and Unabomber type hooded sweatshirts. It's saddening that the decadent teenagers of the 1980's turned into that.

     So, decided to take U street, the safest one I knew of, back to the club, just in case everyone was showing up late, and the other event ended. On the way there, I passed a club with some mellow African Americans outside, so my guess is it was a jazz club. They were fairly nice, and intrigued with my costume, so I didn't mind talking at all. The more I can do to not get shunned around here for my race (isn't reverse discrimination wonderful?), I'm glad to do. I told them I was on my way to a Halloween party I couldn't find, and they asked if I was on my way to the fetish club. I thought for a second, and responded affirmatively. I suppose to someone who didn't know for sure, industrial night and fetish night could easily be confused. Hell, I don't even know the difference sometimes. They told me I had to enter in the downstairs, since it's been remodeled. That seemed a bit weird, seeing as how a few weeks ago, the Cage night club had a ground floor, and an upstairs, and it didnt' look any different when I was walking by there a few minutes ago. I also got told I should be careful, as they do some weird stuff there, and to keep my "little dick" in my pants. I was a little caught off guard at the stories that must fly around about the subculture, and well, I could care less about defending my, er, manhood. I didn't plan on whipping anything out, and told the crowd I'd leave if it got too weird.

     I headed down the street, and came across Bar Nun, which I'd heard of, as I knew that Bound DC, a local branch of a nationwide fetish club met there Friday nights. I also recognized the bouncer, as I have seen him working at the Cage before. Also, I knew that the same production company puts together both Nocturnia (the people who do Thursday's and the party I meant to go to) and the Bound event. So, logically, it would make sense that maybe the original party got screwed over for space, and moved over to here. So, I headed down the stairs and paid my $5 to get into the place.

     Upon entering, I found the club was really tiny, and had a sprinkling of people in it. They had the general clique thing going, but even if I couldn't socialize, the eye candy was nice. You just can't beat a lithe gorgeous brunette in a tight catsuit. Meow baby! And later, there was a Santa Claus and his hottie blond Mrs. Claus in her VERY short, tight red dress. I fantasized about the things she could do with my candy cane. Oh yeah, and a very good facsimilie of Xena showed up too. Drool. Yes I know I probably was being a bit piggish, but hey, I'm entitled, I just became single again.

     Well, of the whole place, most of them weren't the most social to the oddball face, except the bored person at coat check, who didn't mind talking at all. So, I spent a good deal of the night chatting with a gorgeous leggy blond, who was wearing a Catholic schoolgirl uniform with black fishnets, and happens to DJ at another club. Yes, that is too good to be true. The gorgeous part is only in the artistic sense, as the coat check person was one of those adrogynously beautiful yet very masculine cross dressers. No, not questioning my sexuality or anything. The guy just looked good in that outfit, nuff said. Now if I'd been talking to Bruce Campbell all night, then I might be questioning things. Hey, Ash is sexy dammit. . . I don't care who you are, you can't resist "Gimme some sugar baby!" Anyway, the guy goes by Cowboy or DJ Vampire. And yes, it turns out he's the guy who is responsible for the "Vampyre Haven" (because changing a "y" into the spots of "i" is just GAF) goth/industrial night I saw posted on one of my Yahoo clubs on Sunday nights. Why is it that all these events have to take place on weeknights? And why is the really weird nights like Bound and Catacomb are on the weekends? Anyway, he invited me to come to the grand opening next Sunday. I may go, I may not, I told him I'd think about it. He mentioned something about LARP'ing as well, and asked if I knew anything about the rules. Next thing I know he was offering me an ST position, which I kindly turned down. Between the loud music (it was damn good, but loud) and the fact he had a speech impediment, I didn't catch all of the stuff he said. At any rate, he made a decent person to talk to off and on, between checking out eye candy.

     As I said, the music was pretty good. I didn't recognize much of it, as I think it was mostly local, obscure, or really new industrial. And well, it might have been well known industrial, but I still don't know enough of the genre yet to recognize alot. I did pick out a couple KMFDM songs I recognized, and well, everyone knows who Rob Zombie is. I could even nail it down to which remix of Dragula it was. Yay, I'm proud. As for the people, well, not social, but most of them would at least make eye contact and say hi, even if they wouldn't converse with me. Maybe I was giving off vibes of not being talkative, not being quite one of them, or maybe it was just they are cliqueish and I was the random new guy. At any rate, a smile and hi is more than most anyone in this area will give you otherwise. Ok, elderly crack whores don't count. The up shot is I didn't feel as much like I didn't fit in there. Yeah, I didn't really fit in, but I also didn't have the usual feeling of not being weird enough for them. I was too into the music, and happy at least one person, who may or may not have been all there, was talking to me. I did have one short crying fit, but only because a mix of smoke and makeup got into my eyes. Damn, I wonder how women can deal with so many cosmetics and not have these problems.

     After a decent night of socializing, dancing, and lounging with a great soundtrack, I decided 12:30 was a good time to take off and attempt to get a decent nights sleep at home. Yes, it is 3:30 and I'm stilly typing. At least I made the effort, that's what matters. Really, I'm going to post that on the fridge for morning so I don't blame myself for going to bed so late. I went to get my coat back, and say adios to the skirted Cowboy. Well, out of nowhere, he felt the need to confide that, while straight (most crossdressers are, didn't phase me) he likes it when a woman gives it to him with a strap on. No, that on it's own does not phase me. It wouldn't have phased me if told to me by someone I actually know, or if it were in the context of conversation. But to randomly be told such a thing by a stranger, that's just weird. Why the HELL do people feel the need to confide shit like that in me? Oh well, being me, I had a quick answer. I told him I've heard that's rather common, and I have a good female friend who has had a few past boyfriends that enjoyed that. And I wasn't lying, I do remember specifically hearing that at one time. I wanted my damn coat, so I figured I'd just run with the line of conversation just to get the hell out of there. And hey, if he wanted to confide in me, I figured I'd let him know he's not too weird. At any rate, he then asked me to tell my friend about him, and I said she doesn't live around here (she will probably read this, so I didn't lie to him), but that I'd mention it if she comes around anytime soon. I didn't have the heart to tell him that she has a deep love interest in a man, and doesn't want anymore men. He also told me I'd get in free all the time at his club if I could hook him up, but again I just didn't have the heart to tell him a) his chances of winning the lottery are better and b) I really didn't care anyway. Yeah, I know I'm evil, but I still haven't figured out of the guy was really a few screws loose or not. If I do see him again, I'm sure we'll get along, and he may help me get into the scene. In that case, I will keep being honest (I didn't lie to him yet), and just steer conversations a bit better. If not, oh well, it was a fun night.

     So, I took off, and headed back to the parking lot where my car was, and lo and behold, there were freaks abound near the Cage. Some of them had been in and out of Bound and were going back and forth. Yep, the party had gone on. It only went on in the ground floor area, and was using the secondary doors, not that main ones. I was just too early, so they didn't have anyone at the doors. Ooops. Oh well, I had a night worthy of a journal, which is no small feat.

     The trip home was pretty uneventful. I had to make sure I didn't hit any of the straggling club goers out at the time, and that's about it. The night had been decadent enough as is, so I went for the most mellow CD in my player at the time, which happened to be Stabbing Westward. I figured it did double duty, because hey, when you just lost an idiot girlfriend, it's a wonderful CD.

     Well, it's 3:30ish, and I'm finally tired enough to crash into bed. It's one of the few times in the last several years that I've had a Halloween to remember.